


Of mines and rain

by Versolite



Series: A Rawson canvas [2]
Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Brotherhood, Brotherly Angst, Christopher needs to chill and Jeremiah needs to rest, Family Issues, Gen, Mental Breakdown, give me a whole show based on how they deal with being an asshole and a scared mess, idk i just like their energy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26463688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Versolite/pseuds/Versolite
Relationships: Christopher Rawson (1777-1849) & Jeremiah Rawson (1787-1839), Jeremiah Rawson (1787-1839) & Original Character(s)
Series: A Rawson canvas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931890
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Du temps pour lui](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952022) by [Versolite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Versolite/pseuds/Versolite). 



He has been hearing footsteps and whisperings the whole day while he was working. The conversations of the servants have been feeling like a buzz, which didn’t actually bother him once he got used to it. Someone knocked at the door while he was working, to pass him a letter from Nelson Bouges, but apart from that, no one has disturbed him since then. Until 5’o’clock.

He raises his eyes when the voice of one of the maids announces his brother’s arrival. The gaze he meets is tired and frightened, just as usual. Jeremiah has always made a drama out of everything and Christopher simply ended up not caring anymore.

“I hope you have good news.

\- I don’t.” Jeremiah grunts. “There was nothing much I could do with that rain… I told you it would rain. All the farmers were positive about that.

\- Yes, it rained, so what?” He gives him an annoyed smile. “Are you scared of the weather too, now?

\- Christopher. What I am is soaked, and tired. I’m sorry, but it was u… utterly irresponsible from you to send me to Celvin despite the warnings. The road is dangerous in this weather, have you heard of what happened to sir Lithers last mon-

\- Less chatting and more real talk, will you?

\- Did you even listen to what I’ve been saying?” Jeremiah cuts him off, raising his voice. The elder doesn’t have time to figure out what just happened before his brother continues: “I am not your bloody footman, Christopher, I won’t take another job of the kind. If a footman is what you want, you just have enough dishonest money to get the grace of buying yourself one!

\- What did you just say??”

The older brutally stands up, but before he has a chance to do anything, Jeremiah has already left, his footsteps slamming on the stairs. He left the door ajar behind him.

Christopher remains speechless before brutally throwing the papers he was holding on the desk. Who does Jeremiah think he is?? Does he even realize how much the elder is already bothering himself for him, for the mines Jeremiah is supposed to run by himself?! And this footman thing... Sure, relying on a footman for the business... If it weren’t for the domestics, he would be chasing him to let his anger explode. He never hit him, or not since they were children at least, and Jeremiah gave him plenty of kicks too at that time; but for a short moment he sincerely considers it.

What does he care, anyway? If Jeremiah wants to be rude, then he can be his guest. It is his only chance to make an impression ever, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Christopher forgets about Jeremiah so well he barely notices his absence at breakfast the next day. He heads into town to resume his business, and while he is talking to some lawyers, he waits for the moment he will be told that the "young" Mr. Rawson has arrived. He even ends up preparing a cigarette for him near their glasses of whisky. A way to bury the hatchet and to go back to harassing Anne Lister together, in peace and hopefully without any more of this kind of outburst.

When all of this would be settled, well... surely he will find a good opportunity to make him pay for his behaviour. Who knows, maybe he might not even mention it until Jeremiah has completely forgotten about it and calmed down. Then, when Christopher will look at him directly in the eyes, when he will ask Jeremiah what the anger was about, he will see his expression droop. He will see on his face how his brother thought they had moved on, and grin while the other will shake in fear. It might be a little entertaining.

He gets lost in his work, but now that he started thinking about him, there is something bugging in Jeremiah’s absence. He doesn’t like the idea of talking to their intermediary without him, so he deals with his other cases, throws a few coins to the street children and looks at the time. Eighteen o'clock.

Eighteen o’clock, and Jeremiah didn't show up at all, neither for lunch or at their working place.

When he steps out of the place, and his dog jumps in the carriage, he notices someone in the vehicle. He realizes that it’s a woman, Rose, one of their maids.

“Hello, mister Rawson. How was your day?”

She bows her head towards him and hands him a message. He stops her chit-chat with an impatient gesture and looks over the words with a frown. He quickly recognizes his brother's handwriting.  
  
 _Dear Christopher,  
  
My apologies for yesterday. I cannot figure out what got into me, and I understand you might hold a grudge against me after what I have done. I felt unwell this morning and did not find the energy to make it to the bank today. I am starting to suspect all of this might be linked – maybe our uncle’s temper issues finally got to me, just as Dr. Kurthill predicted. Do not worry, for I will assure to make it out for all the work I could not do today as soon as I can. Otherwise, I hope your day was good._

_If you get this message in time, would it be possible for you to pick up mother’s order at the library please? I considered sending Rose to take care of this issue but remembered in time that mother probably would not trust a maid into doing this job._

_Yours with esteem,_

_Jeremiah._

And on top of that, he expects him to do his chores... He tears the message in his hands and gives the young woman a cold stare. “Lindson, start the gig. And you, don't mess up the seats.  
  
\- Yes, Mr. Rawson," Rose politely replies.  
  
\- Can you tell me why my brother didn’t send this mail sooner?”  
  
She purses her lips, looking perplexed. “I don't know, sir. He's been in his room a good part of the day, I couldn’t say why. Olga asked me to pass his message since she can’t quite move herself, this is all I can-

\- Alright, alright. I don’t have time for your gossip. When we get home, tell my brother to meet me in my office.”

They sit silently during the rest of the trip. Christopher stares at the road, which goes by way too slowly for his taste. This whole thing with Jeremiah is starting to get on his nerves; he has already enough work to do without having to deal with that. Oh, and he forgot – well, “forgot” – his mother’s order. Nothing to worry about. It was up to his brother to pick it up in the first place, so he will.

Jeremiah already owes him, after all.

His brother finally showed up to talk; Christopher had him wait in the next room while he was taking care of the daily files. When the elder finishes his work, he goes and open the door, keeping his hand on the handle. Jeremiah, who was sitting on a chair, gets up instantly. He follows the lead when the elder tells him to come in; they soon find themselves facing each other, Christopher sitting, Jeremiah standing. Christopher forgets for a moment why he called him, while the younger one writhes his hands. The paperwork has emptied his brain; but he quickly remembers:

“What happened to you today?

\- Oh, um, I asked Rose to give you a message… Didn’t you receive it?

\- I want you to explain yourself directly” he grunts.

\- I… I guess I got tired. I'm sorry," stammers Jeremiah.

Christopher glares at him, looking for a hint of lie in his attitude. The other man looks uncomfortable, but as honest as always, and the older raises his eyebrows. “Have you been tired the whole day?

\- Maybe it was the rain, Christopher. It's been playing on my nerves, and now...

\- I hope you didn’t call a doctor.

\- No, I... I thought resting would be enou...

\- Good. Good, Kenny would’ve gossiped, you know that. Still, you weren’t there. This wasn’t unnoticed. I want you to go to the Lister's tonight.

\- Oh, Christopher, is that very necessary…?

\- If you don’t visit the Listers tonight, you will face Anne Lister tomorrow, and it will be in public. Given how she fools you when there’s only the two of you, I’m not imagining what will happen in front of the whole bank workers, and there’s no way I’m seeing that either, just because you weren’t there. She’s the kind who digs, and not just in her own damn mines, Jeremiah.

\- What should I tell her?”

Christopher smirks. That’s way better.

“That you had to pay a visit somewhere else you didn’t have time to tell her about. Or that something went wrong on your way to their place. Just be creative. And explain that only if she questions you”, he adds, firmly.

“That goes without saying.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Mr. Rawson!" the old man smiles as Jeremiah enters.

\- Mr Lister” replies Jeremiah as warmly. “I hope I'm not disturbing you?

\- I've already told you, young man, no one can truly disturb me anymore. Well, _almost_ no one” he grumbles. “I suppose you've come to talk to Anne?

\- Indeed. She asked me to come by this week. She wanted to take some time to talk to her intermediaries before I go back to her. Is she here?

\- Not at the moment, I'm afraid. She’s, heh, always here and there, you know. I could tell her to send you a message when she gets back, or you can wait for her here. She probably won’t take too long.

\- If you don't mind, I'd rather wait for her.

\- Then take a sit.”

They spend the next minutes chatting, as they usually do when Jeremiah visits the Listers. Their discussions are mundane as can be, and their relationship purely formal, but at least they both know how to carry on a conversation without a problem. None of them is under any illusions about the forms of their discussions: they are not friends and probably never will be. Their complicated situation does not allow it. Although he is not an unpleasant person, far from it, Jeremiah feels nothing in common with Jeremy Lister, just as the old man must feel nothing close to him.

“You know”, sir Lister says, slightly frowning, “I can’t keep you accountable for your brother’s behaviour, but there is something he did I just can’t tolerate. I suppose you didn’t hear about what he said to Marian?”

Jeremiah stays silent for a second. More than embarrassed in apprehension, he feels mad. Despite their lack of relationship – they don’t talk much, or at all actually – he has a lot of affection for Marian Lister, from what he has heard about her. Not only does she take care of her father and aunt, she also leads the domain when her older sister isn’t around, and never hesitates to seek help and take decisions about sticky situations. She’s discreet but knows when to use a good measure of authority, and this is something he can respect. The simple thought that Christopher might have been inappropriate towards her infuriates him.

“I have to say I wasn’t aware, no.”, he mutters. “What did he do?

\- He got rude. He humiliated her, in public. Said he joked around, but you know the kind of jokes. If I wasn’t so old, you know…”

He cuts himself off, turning his head to the door. Jeremiah doesn’t understand why until he hears footsteps and meets Marian Lister’s gaze. He greets her with a head gesture while she smiles to her father. They manage to change the subject as she quickly joins the conversation and sits next to Jeremy Lister. As usual, Jeremiah and her only exchange awkward glares and silent smiles. It takes some casual chatting to the guest before he gathers the strength to get up:

“Miss Lister, by the way, would it be possible to… um, talk for a moment?

\- Sure," she says, unimpressed, "what do you want to talk about?

He hesitates as she looks at him, silently inviting him to go on. Should he discuss about the matter in front of her father, or would it be more appropriate to... Before getting lost in his thoughts, he meets Jeremy Lister's gaze.

“I'd like to... talk about it privately" He finally determines to ask her."If you don't mind.”

The woman gathers her petticoats and gets up without losing her composure, and the old man runs his fingers on the small green sofa’s armrests. Jeremiah feels clumsy, as she leads him into the visiting room where Anne Lister has so often crushed him during negotiations. He is, by far, much more at ease in the presence of her younger sister. Not because she seems _softer_ – God forbids him this kind of misogynistic allusion – it’s just... she simply frightens him less. He prays, however, that he will soon be finished, when he breaks the silence:

“Well, this will sound silly – not that the situation in itself is silly or anything, but…” He’s already off to a bad start. He quietly and quickly breathes in and out, and continues: “What I mean is… I have been told only recently about the way my brother behaved towards you. I thought... I thought the least I could do was to apologize. I’m very sorry about this, Miss Lister.

\- You don’t have to apologize.”, she replies with a hand gesture. “It isn’t your fault, nor your responsibility, Mr. Rawson. But since you mention it, it would be quite convenient if you could convince him to watch his ways. His attitude doesn’t serve him well.

He nods. Convincing Christopher to change... His perplexity must be too legible, and he tries to contain the damage: “I'll do what I can, Miss Lister. I promise.

\- I’m sure about that, but don't worry too much”, she sighs. “If my sister hasn't been able to make him a little courteous to me, I doubt there is anything more you can do. But I accept your apology.

\- Thank you.”

She has some kind of half smile, as she looks down distractedly. He sighs, uneasy. She directs her attention to him and frowns.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Rawson?”

There must be something wrong in his face.

“Oh, yes, of course, he hastens to answer. Well, I've... I had a visit," he corrects himself in time, "which probably made me a little tired today.

\- Oh, I see.”

It was already clear enough when he was talking to Mr. Lister, and he prayed for it to only be the effect of boredom or sitting, but now that he is standing in front of the young lady he realizes that all he wants to do is to rest in his bed. A heavy fatigue has begun to weigh on his shoulders, and this masquerade of visiting the Listers, besides being grotesque, now seems quite unnecessary to him.

“I... I am sorry I have disturbed you both”, he stutters, “but I think it would be better if I just leave, for now.

\- Yes, you'd better get some rest," she replies with an understanding smile.

“Would you mind telling Miss Anne that I stopped by, and excusing me to Mr Lister? Please?

\- It will be done, don't worry” guarantees miss Lister. “You go ahead, I won't keep you any longer. But, Mr. Rawson...” she adds as he takes the leave she allows him.

\- Yes, Miss Lister?

\- Take care of yourself, now, will you?”

He nods with a bow and they part ways on those words. In spite of the headache, his heart is strangely light as he gets back into the carriage.


	4. Chapter 4

“Sir?”

He wakes up in an unpleasant posture, with a painful body and a dry throat. It takes him a moment to realize that he has fallen asleep in the carriage, and that the vehicle is stopped in front of the house. Behind the window, the driver gives him a strange look. “You have arrived, sir," he says.

“Thank you, Lindson.”

He puts his top hat on as he gets out, and clings to his cane to get his thoughts together. He's never fallen asleep in a carriage before, and it doesn't leave the best impression on his muscles. He goes up the steps of the porch, overgrown with weeds here and there, and heads straight for the big stairs. He wishes nothing better than to be done with this disappointing day. He smiles at the thought of having a large glass of water before going to sleep, but even before he has set foot on the first stair, he hears a few steps which distract him.

“I’m sorry”, he says, resigned, “Anne Lister wasn't there, Christop...”

Turning around, he encounters a mischievous look, very different from his elder's, and immediately feels relieved. An old woman stands before him, a maid he knows since he is a young child.

“Oh, thank Christ, I thought it was Christopher…

\- No, sir, he’s still out. He left you a note in your room though.

\- Thank you, Charlotte” he says as she takes his coat off. “How was your day?

\- Tiring, as always. Janine tried to cook some bread again, with the results you know… I was supposed to guide her, but I fell asleep again.

\- Rose should have helped her.” He frowns.

\- The poor one didn’t have time, dear.

\- This is too bad… Maybe next time?

\- Sure, sure… What else… I’m still waiting for my daughter’s letter, but heh. She has everything else in mind that her old mother… Jesus, don’t let me ramble, though. How was it at the Lister's? You said Mrs Anne wasn't there? That's good. That woman always upsets you.

\- I only chatted a little with her father and sister. I think I will go and rest for now. They told me Christopher humiliated Marian Lister in public, and it's still up to me to make amends.” he groans.

The maid’s black eyes who were shining the moment before get darker as her wrinkled mouth becomes a fine line of disapproval:

“I'll teach the Sowden’s farm’s pigs to sit at the table before your brother will learn anything, Jeremiah. God forgives me, I should have been as gentle with him as I was with you instead of sweeping him up when he was smoking in the living room.

\- Don't talk so loud!

\- That said,” she continues, ignoring his order as she folds the coat on her arm, “it wasn’t unfair from me. You were a more reasonable boy. I remember that day under the trees, when...

He nods his head thoughtfully, his leg in slight agitation. He feels almost nervous, just standing here; as earlier, he is only waiting for the moment when all this discussion will be over so that he can go away and sleep. He feels like only one second has passed when the woman's voice rises louder and interrupts his daydream:

“Sir, you don't look so good. Are you sure everything is fine?”

He frowns – he has moved forward, bending over slightly to understand the old woman's mumble, and finds himself bewildered, in the light. As he tries to put his thoughts in order, he realizes that the woman has spoken for a while, and that he hasn't retained a single word. He responds with a delayed time:

“Yes, yes it is, I only made a visit, well... no, not a visit, but...

\- I know," she says staring at him. “You just told me.

\- Ah, aha, I must have...” He makes a stupid, vague gesture “I must have been distracted. I'm thinking about going to sleep, it's been a very... well, a very long day, and I haven't done much. Hopefully I will be in better shape tomorrow.

She's got that pout, which makes her cheeks just a little swollen, and that look of indignation he knows well. Jeremiah has never been fooled by that kind of expression, so he replies with a tender smile and leaves after briefly shaking Charlotte's hands in his own. As he walks up the stairs, he revisits this gesture, wondering why he did it, and imagining in what perplexity he must have left the poor maid.

He closes the door of his room behind him, and sighs at length. He has a sharp pain in his throat, and a desire to cry on his trembling lips. He feels no sadness, only overwhelmed. The day has been too long, that's it. Useless, just as him.

Just as he has always been.

“Come on, stop thinking nonsense," he admonishes himself as he unbuttoned his jacket, "it's only tiredness talking. Rest, and...

 _Haven't you slept all day already?_ replies the vicious voice in his head.

He pours himself a glass of water, desperately searching his imagination for something other than this self-flagellation. It took him a while, and a couple of advices from his friends, to soothe this behaviour; Christopher is already providing him with his content of disdain without him coming to disregard himself in the same way. He clings to the idea, to the old face of the maid whom he loves so much, and he comes to rethink the words of Marian Lister.

Soon there is no more thought, anyways. Soon everything feels like a cloud, heavy with rain, but harmless; not a storm, not a beautiful sun, unfortunately, but the neutrality of the weather before the thunder. It feels like a threat, but it does not hurt him. For the time being, he is not a target for his bitter ideas created by his elder's drinking parties and the crooked words Christopher may have let slip out of his mouth. For now, Jeremiah is safe and sound.

It is with this feeling of failure, tiredness and relief that he finds the softness of his sheets, and rushes to fall asleep immediately.


	5. Chapter 5

When he wakes up, he does not find himself in a very good condition.

He realizes with horror that he has sweated, and the pain in his throat has became an unpleasant sensation; he feels better, except that he cannot swallow without pain. He hears voices in the corridor, and sees the glass of water he left on his bedside table, towards which he reaches out his arm. It’s still half full; as the cool contact of the glass touches his fingers, he feels his strong headache. He straightens up his position. The door opens and he looks up at the intruder.

“… in ten minutes. He probably got caught in the rain.” There are two of them. His brother and Rose. Christopher stares at him and let go of a quick sigh. He seems relieved. “You’re awake.

The woman pauses briefly before walking towards Jeremiah. “Are you hungry, sir? Charlotte started making soup when she saw you were feverish.” She puts her hand on his shoulder “Lean forward, sir.”

As earlier, understanding takes him a longer time than usual; the woman grabs a part of his pillow and he hardly leans over when she straightens the cushion so fast it makes him dizzy; everything seems way too fast and confusing for him right now. He can't hear what his brother is saying, he puts one hand on his temple. Rose's voice still asks him something, and he follows her hand's thrust. His glass of water is taken from him, after he has drank. He tries to speak, but he can hear himself stammering. When Christopher's shadow falls on him, the terror calls his spirits to order for a moment.

“Christopher, I'm sorry, I'm not...

\- Calm down” grumbles his elder. “I understand now why you didn't show up today. You should have told me you were coming down with something.”

Jeremiah closes his eyes. He hadn't considered getting ill as a possibility; thinking about the work he might miss and the efforts it will require to catch up again is just too much. The empty day, the argument with Christopher, the Listers and this kind of exhaustion he’s been carrying with him, all of this suddenly makes him want to cry.

“I heard that the Lister wasn't there," Christopher adds cynically, "you can always be happy about that... Jeremiah?”

He feels ashamed, and miserable, and there's so much he should be doing. He feels angry, because of the damn rain and the intimidating irritability of his elder. He feels tired, sick, confused, hates the way his brain is so slow in all this mess. He had forgotten what it felt like to be sick, how much one always expects vital functions to be in perfect order, without an ounce of problem within; how things change and become difficult when you can’t fulfil this simple requirement. At the same time as an alarm shouts at him that he should work, that if he doesn't, the coal theft will certainly be discovered, that he and his brother will be thrown out, dragged, humiliated, their servants will starve, Mother will hate them, and oh, poor Charlotte... Along with all this, a continuous noise, like tinnitus, retorts, louder than the alarm. A peaceful noise, so tempting to listen to...

 _You’ve done all you could possibly do,_ _Jeremiah. It's time to stop, now._

He doesn't know how long his restless hands in spasmodic tremors cover his tear-soaked face and his mouth that twists under the influx of emotion, he doesn't know how long he hiccups, and how long his voice, a faint howl, sounds like a ridiculous complaint in the bedroom. But suddenly he is grasped as if by force, and a rough hand runs across his back, from bottom to top. Instinctively, his face disappears into the man’s shoulder, and he moans, silently, because it's his brother's voice he hears, right there. He’s cold, and impatient as always, but it's definitely him, and the younger just can’t process. Never has Christopher been soft towards him before, or not that he remembers.

“Come on, Jeremiah. It's all right. There.

\- I, I'm...” he says, his lips moving without his brain telling him to, “I, Christopher, I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I didn't stay... I was tired, I left before... I should have... said that... waited... I can't…

\- It’s okay.”

He's incapable of saying another word. His forehead leans against the rough fabric of Christopher's jacket, and his brother leaves him in peace, saying nothing more. He doesn't have the methods, for words, Jeremiah is the one who knows how to hold a conversation – as earlier with Jeremy Lister. The younger nods to a brief word from his brother, which he hasn't heard but guesses as comforting. His voice is methodical, that's about all the cadet can perceive, but he's hugging him, and Jeremiah realizes that it doesn’t seem to him it has happened before. Christopher is hugging him for the first time. If he wasn't already crying, the mere thought of it would make him sob.

“I can't do it," he repeats softly.

Some miracle gives him a moment of attention, and he feels how his debility has closed him off from the outside world, when Christopher's words come clearly to him:

“Right now, that's not the point.” He turns his head; Jeremiah hasn't heard anything, but his brother obviously has. “It must be the doctor. You'll probably be stopped for a while. Take the opportunity to rest and recuperate. I'll get Mother's order.”

He nods his head, forgetting the next moment what his brother said to him, as Christopher steps aside. He's still lost, terribly confused and downcast, but a soft flame burns in his chest. He thanks Rose, who brings him something to blow his nose, and lies down.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voilà
> 
> The Rawson brothers just have... this energy, you know. I'm so sorry but the simple fact Jeremiah is canonically shown and described as being scared of his brother still feels fascinating to me? I'd be curious to read more about them and their relationship. Also I just *need* Christopher taking care of a sick Jeremiah. Maybe I'll write that someday, heh


End file.
